The curb was there a solid edge

The curb was there, a solid edge,

and then it wasn't, or I missed.

A sudden drop, a body's pledge

to gravity, a sudden twist.

The old pain fired, a raw, hot wire,

around the bone, a sharp return.

My left foot buckled, fought the fire,

a lesson I refuse to learn.

A stumble, then I caught myself,

the limp a habit, deep and slow.

Just this old thing, shelved on a shelf,

that surfaces to make me know.

That part of me is still undone,

a weakness that I carry near.